Bronwyn Egan Poet I do not know?

Climate Change

We’ve been lighting our candles for aeons and aeons
And blowing the fumes to the faeries,
Thinking they’d take them and magically make them
Into a soul subscription.

And it seemed like a boon for ages on ages,
As we powered up our flying machines.
As we painted our night times with glorious white lights
And turned all our labour to leisure.

But the faeries were blowing the smoke back on our birthplaces,
Smothering our legacies in sand.
They were choking our homelands with grime from our fires
And fastening our souls to earth's shackles.

But we were so busy with garnering our wealth,
And harvesting heat from below,
That we turned our eyes from our dry withered forests
And blocked out the burning wind rows.

And now as we crack open our rivers; break into our fields,
We see how little we’ve left.
We try to stop leaks in the stores that we’ve squandered,
With contracts we just never keep.

And the faeries laugh louder as the fumes grow bolder
And they snatch at the bounty they’re given.
While all the while our lost children’s future
Grows fainter with their fast fading breathing.

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